Case Number 11128

Phantasm

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All Rise...

He was there, in the audience, back in 1979 and Judge Bill Gibron wants you to know that Don Coscarelli's original frightmare is still as effective today as it was way back then.

Editor's Note

Our review of Phantasm, published
November 8th, 1999, is also available.

The Charge

If this one doesn't scare you, you're already dead!

Opening Statement

It arrived during the final phases of classic '70s horror, an era that had
seen The Exorcist, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, and Halloween reestablish the genre's
credibility as a cinematic art form. John Carpenter's slasher suspense story
specifically reinvigorated a flagging industry interest in scary stuff, and the
marketplace was preparing for a flood of finely tuned copycats. But standing out
there all alone in the macabre wilderness was independent filmmaker Don
Coscarelli. Having had some minor success with more family-oriented fare, the
young director noticed that an inconsequential moment of fear during one of his
more genial movies really gave audiences a start. Wanting to capitalize on such
a crowd reaction, he parlayed a dream he once had, along with a collection of
ideas and icons he had collected from years as a drive-in B-movie buff, into an
experiment in terror. Labeling his final product Phantasm, he sent his
monster movie out into the commercial landscape to see what would happen. The
results were unexpected. One of 1979's solid hits, this fright film became the
basis for a long-running franchise. With a new special edition DVD from Anchor
Bay, it's time to see if the original work of weird wickedness actually holds
up. Turns out it does quite well.

Facts of the Case

Something strange is happening over at the Morningside Cemetery and Funeral
Home. People have been disappearing and interned bodies have gone missing. The
enigmatic director of the parlor, a strange figure only known as The Tall Man
(Angus Scrimm, Chopping Mall), appears to stalk the small suburban
California town, and this makes Jody Pearson (Bill Thornbury, Sarah T.:
Portrait of a Teenage Alcoholic), his little brother Michael (A. Michael
Baldwin, Vice Girls), and their pal Reggie (Reggie Bannister, Last Rites) very uneasy. When a mutual friend
is found dead in the local graveyard, all eyes shift to Morningside. A
late-night visit inside the mausoleum reveals some stunning supernatural
surprises. The paranormal follows the Pearson boys as they try to make sense of
what's going on. It's not long before young Mike is seeing the Tall Man
everywhere he goes. With his older sibling firmly in the madman's demonic
sights, Mike knows something sinister is definitely afoot. For the trio,
day-to-day living has turned into a life-or-death struggle—or maybe, it's
all just a tragedy-inspired Phantasm—a twisted trick of the
mind.

The Evidence

Phantasm was the Scream of its
era, an ironic nod and wink to the formulas and familiarities of the creature
feature deconstructed by a man who really understood the genre he was jeering.
Since the slasher film was still a glowing glimmer in Tinseltown's tainted eye,
director Don Coscarelli relied on the previous two decades of drive-in horror, a
catalog of films filled with monsters, graveyards, psychotic killers, and even a
smattering of science fiction, to foster his vision. They became the bricks for
his new form of fear, the building blocks for a surreal narrative that
sacrificed sense in order to keep the shivers alive and electrifying. While some
didn't mind that the plot seemed pointless, a creative clothesline upon which
various shock set pieces could be fashioned, others saw beneath the scattered
surface to recognize what Coscarelli was really after. Between the tender
familial drama, the clever character turns, and one glorious moment of gore, at
itscore, Phantasm was and remains a movie about the nature of dread. It's
an experiment in what makes us afraid. It uses any and all terror
tenets—suspense, bloodletting, the unknown, the unstoppable—as gears
in an ever-churning macabre machine. Perhaps the clearest indication of
Coscarelli's success remains the enigmatic villain he created, the iconic Tall
Man. It's rare when a movie can leave behind such a lasting impression. For
Phantasm, this lumbering ghoul remains its legitimate legacy.

But there is more here than just Angus Scrimm in a badly fitting suit. For
anyone who grew up with old-school horror, Phantasm felt like and
continues to play like a primer. Coscarelli obviously knew what fans expected
and what the average person believes to be scary or unsettling, and went with a
clear kitchen sink creepy approach. From the opening which mixes sex and
slaughter to the sequence where a severed finger turns into a ravenous beastie,
there are no set rules in the Phantasm universe, no logic to the way
terror becomes part of the real world's temporal plane. Coscarelli has often
said that he was influenced by surrealism, recognizing the inherent power in
particular imagery juxtaposed together. Phantasm is full of such moments:
Mike's vision of the Tall Man in an antique photo; the Lady in Lavender's subtle
shape shifts; the fog encased vision of Reggie's ice cream truck overturned and
motionless; the menacing marble mortuary with its floating metallic
"caretaker." Though they seem to have no link to each other (and let's
not get started on the whole Jawa/space slave issue, okay?), and individually
would appear more singular than substantive, Coscarelli manages to make them
seem wholly organic to the strange circumstances we are stuck in. As a result,
their inherent power to unsettle stays with us long after the final false ending
has arrived.

The key to making this all work starts with solid performances from a
completely complementary cast. Your performers have to play with, not against
you, adding to the overall effectiveness of the terror. In this case, Coscarelli
found a good friend (the excellent Reggie Bannister), a well-meaning musician
(Bill Thornbury), and a precocious kid he had worked with before (A. Michael
Baldwin), and forged a unique and totally authentic bond. Some may wonder about
the front porch jam, Reggie and Billy banging away on some self-penned blues
stomp, but the truth is, nothing establishes communion better than the sharing
of something as personal as music. We immediately understand the connection and
recognize the attachment both have for each other. Similarly, Billy and Michael
play siblings with a love of cars (in this case, a completely bad-ass Barracuda)
and tinkering, and it's a mutual experience that helps fuse them together as a
family. With other standard '70s touches like dead parents, issues of
abandonment, and the usual adolescent concerns of growing up and taking
responsibility, Coscarelli creates a character dynamic we truly believe and
support. Since we accept the relationship of the trio, we have a much easier
time of falling into the fear.

Still, Phantasm remains a director's film, a highlight reel that also
manages to be an effective fright flick. Coscarelli, who had made a couple of
midlevel mainstream movies before diving into dread, obviously knows his way
around a camera. His placement throughout this film is fascinating. He uses low
angles and obscure framings to keep things uncomfortable, and applies handheld
and other POV techniques to keep the audience directly involved in the action.
This is particularly true of a late-night car chase between the Pearson boys and
the Tall Man's driverless hearse. As Jody climbs out of the Cuda's sunroof to
level a shotgun at the vile vehicle, Coscarelli's lens is right there, standing
directly between the trigger and the target. There's also a sense of Hardy
Boys-like adventure here, a concept of personal ingenuity and everyday invention
that keeps viewers curious and connected. When Michael is locked in his room and
looking for a way out, his MacGyver-like creativity results in one of the
movie's most memorable stunts. Similarly, when faced with having to outsmart the
villainous maniac mortician, the boys rely more on their brains than their brawn
to find a shorthanded solution. It's all part of the queer contrasts at play
here. Phantasm has a narrative locked in its own perplexing universe, yet
its director constantly strives for some manner of realism and authenticity.

There will be some who complain about the special effects (though the
movie's most memorable bit of brain-draining is still as shocking as it was
three decades ago) and the often ambiguous explanation for just what is going on
at the Morningside Funeral Parlor. This ties in directly to the whole
2001-inspired reveal. Without spoiling too much, one has to remember that
many Me Decade films played fast and loose with all speculative genres, and the
melding of sci-fi with horror had lots of potent precedent (Alien, anyone?). Still, for some
viewers, this is the movie's only major misstep, a plot twist that instantly
takes them out of the film and into an unintentional galaxy far, far away. There
is no real explanation for how two directors could come up with the same concept
for a diminutive creature, but the killer dwarves/Jawa comparisons do hurt
Phantasm—and the reason is simple. For the longest time, the movie
played by its own unique rules. When we see the little hooded fiends, faces
obscured by fabric-draped shadows, the recognition factor fails us. We start
free associating on a certain battle among the stars and, suddenly, Coscarelli
appears a copycat, not an innovative artist.

Since such a situation is completely not his fault, our frightmare fashioner
can be forgiven—especially when his efforts are taken in total.
Phantasm remains a viable entity some 28 years after its release because
it represents something unique in the post-modern world of horror. Instead of
going with the growing trend introduced by Halloween, instead of following in the
footsteps of brutality giants like Wes Craven, Don Coscarelli created an EC
Comics concept of fear. His was a Stephen King kind of nastiness, a dread
drenched in nostalgia and acknowledgement of all that came before. By mixing up
all the hocus pocus possibilities of the genre into a single supernatural stew,
Coscarelli both reinvigorated and set the death knell for the next two decades.
As home video allowed anyone and everyone to make their own damn horror movie,
originality was trumped by availability. Product was more important than
innovation, and Coscarelli went on to sequelize his original while trying his
hand at other cinematic categories (sword and sandal, action adventure). But
Phantasm remains his best known effort, a four-film (and growing)
franchise that has its basis in one fabulously fascinating movie. At the time,
it literally shook the scare fanbase. Today, it's a testament to one man's
amazing ability.

What many Phantasm fans would like to know is, what exactly does this
new Anchor Bay DVD have to offer? The MGM release from 1999 was a nice, if
non-anamorphic, presentation. It was also packed with added content. This latest
release brings the 16x9 back to the film and the 1.85:1 widescreen transfer is
terrific. Colors are clear, and the balance between light and dark is strong and
very dynamic. On the sound side, the original Mono track is missing (shrug), but
a new 5.1 DTS mix has been added. Only slightly more sonic than the standard
multi-channel Dolby Digital 5.1 (also included), both versions provide the movie
with a nice aural assault. We get a wonderful balance between normal and nasty,
with dialogue easily discernible and background noises solid yet subtle. There
are some interesting directional elements involved, and the overall use of
spatial ambience is very nice. From a purely technical standpoint, this latest
release is a significant digital upgrade.

But what about the bonus features, you may be asking. What's new, and what's
a non-issue? Well, it's kind of tricky, but let's see if we can't straighten it
all out. Absent from this version of the title and only available on the MGM
release are a couple of deleted scenes (on the MGM disc, the edits clock in at
approximately 10 minutes, while the Anchor Bay ends at eight) and an Australian
TV spot. The new DVD also lacks the Angus Scrimm intro to the film (a nice touch
in the original). New to the Anchor Bay edition is something called
"Phantasmagoria" (an excellent 36-minute documentary) and something
called "Phantasm Actors Having a Ball" (a selection of extended
interviews). Both are exceptional in helping us understand the ongoing influence
and personal pull the movie has on its cast, as well as the fanbase.

Ported over from the MGM disc is a full-length audio commentary (featuring
Coscarelli, and actors Scrimm, Michael Baldwin, and Bill Thornbury), a home
movie-oriented behind-the-scenes featurette (narrated by the director and his
friend, actor Reggie Bannister), a TV interview from 1979 (Coscarelli and
Scrimm) a 1988 Phantasm TV commercial, a 1989 Angus Scrimm Convention
Appearance, and a few trailers and TV spots. Without going into a mountain of
detail, it has to be said that, in many ways, what we end up with is the horror
movie equivalent of a Criterion Collection presentation. The insights are
voluminous, almost everyone involved participates in the supplements, and the
overall feeling is one of joyful reminiscing. It makes for a solid substitute
for the letterbox-only MGM offering.

Closing Statement

With its attention to detail, its memorable movie madman, a clear concern for
character and interpersonal interaction, and one amazing skull-drilling delight,
Phantasm deserves its place in the public's paranormal consciousness.
While other examples of the era's terrors have fallen by the wayside, victims of
their limited scope and even more restrictive belief in the intelligence of the
audience, Don Coscarelli remains a defining director of scares. What's even more
impressive, he's gone on to create some of the more intriguing outsider films of
the last few years, including the absolutely masterful (and quite brilliant) Bubba Ho-Tep. If you've never had a chance to
see this stunning shocker or want to know if the dreaded double dip is actually
warranted in this case, then definitely give this newest version of the
tried-and-true title a try. More than any other movie from the last act of the
'70s, Phantasm maintains both its sense of fear and fun. Who cares if the
last 10 minutes play like a perplexing combination of the supernatural and
science fiction. Forget the fake-looking "ghost bug." Ignore the
moments where artistic approach countermands logic. No, simply sit back and
enjoy this director's original motive for his movie. All he really wanted to do
with Phantasm was cause a little dread. He succeeded magnificently.

The Verdict

Not guilty. Phantasm holds up as one of the genre's best and this DVD
version from Anchor Bay is as close to definitive as you can get.